4. Ethan
4
ETHAN
I step out of the OR, ripping off my gloves and mask before pulling off my surgical cap and gown.
I deposit them in the biohazard waste can and push my way out the swinging doors and toward the shower.
The stress of the surgery did a number on me, and I feel like I’ve been running on pure cortisol since I got back from lunch.
I enter the men’s locker room and unlock my locker. I kick off my shoes and then strip, stuffing my soiled clothing into my duffle bag before grabbing my shower caddy and moving toward the showers.
I step in, close the plastic curtain and twist the knob as the water sprays from the shower head. I hang my head forward and close my eyes, letting the warm spray rush over my head and face. I turn my back to the spray and wipe the water from my eyes.
After showering, I make my way back to my locker and I pull on a clean set of clothes, run my fingers through my hair, and shake my head, slinging water droplets in all directions.
Hooking my bag over my shoulder, I lock my locker and head for the elevator.
It’s been a long day. Most days feel that way after high-stakes emergency surgery.
The boy’s surgery was scheduled for tomorrow, but his heart couldn’t hold out another day.
Regardless, it’s done now, and he should be on the mend. Hopefully, he won’t have to deal with anything like this again for a very long time.
I’ve always been torn about working in pediatrics. I hate seeing all the sick kids, but at least I get to help them. I feel like I do more and care more than anyone could.
The elevator dings, and the doors open. I push forward, stepping out. I intend to talk straight through the quiet lobby, exit the hospital, and go straight home, but I catch a glimpse of Ally sitting on a bench near the elevator, and that makes me stop.
She has her back and head against the wall. Her eyes are closed, and her knees are pulled up.
I check the time on my watch. It’s after eight P.M. She should have left two hours ago.
What is she still doing here, and why is she just sitting there?
Go home, eat dinner, go to bed. That was my big plan. If I felt okay after eating, I was going to go a little wild and pour a drink to sip on while picking up where I left off last night with my research.
I didn’t plan to sit next to a woman I don’t know and pry into her personal business, but here I go, walking up to her.
I come to a stop before her, expecting her to notice me even though her eyes are closed. Surely, she could feel someone staring at her.
She doesn’t, so I clear my throat.
She jumps slightly and her eyes pop open, locking with mine as she forces herself to sit a little taller.
“What are you doing here? Your shift ended two hours ago.” I slip my free hand into the front pocket of my sweatshirt.
“Yeah, I know.” She takes a deep breath. “I just wanted to sit down for a minute. Figure some things out, you know?”
A puff of air escapes my nose as I turn and sit beside her. “Of course. The hospital lobby is where I like to sit and do all my thinking, too,” I deadpan.
I drop my bag onto the floor and scoot back on the bench, pressing my back against the wall. My shoulder touches hers and sends a long-forgotten jolt of electricity through me. It causes my breath to catch, but I clear my throat to cover it up.
“So, are you going to tell me why you’re really sitting here? Do you need a ride? Are you homeless?”
“No, it’s nothing like that.” She turns away so I can’t look into her eyes. Well enough, I suppose. I don’t need to if my shoulder touching hers brings my body to life in ways I haven’t experienced in years.
I wait a long moment, hoping she continues, but she doesn’t. “So, we’re just going to sit here all night?”
She sighs. “Why do you care?” She looks at me now with her brow arched.
“Honestly?”
She nods once.
“I have no clue.”
The hint of a smile plays at the corners of her sexy lips.
“All I know is that it’s your first day, and we’ve been losing nurses left and right. I see something when I look at you. I can tell you have what it takes. So, if something is wrong, I want to fix it before you walk out, because the next nurse who walks through those doors might not have what it takes.”
“I’m not a nurse.”
“Yet.”
“Ever. I don’t know what you think you see, but I don’t have it. I figured that out today.”
I frown as I look at her. “You mean with that code white?”
She gives me an incredulous look while nodding.
I wave my hand through the air. “That was nothing. That happens to everyone.”
“It’s not okay. That kid could’ve died.”
“He didn’t,” I correct.
“What if I had been the only one there?”
“You weren’t, and you won’t be the only one there for a very long time. For reasons like these. I’m telling you; it happens to everyone with their first code. And sometimes their second. And sometimes their third. It takes practice. You’ll get there.”
“I’ve wasted years of my life and thousands of dollars. I should have gone to business school.”
I chuckle because I’ve thought the same thing many times about my life. “You know how I know you’ll be a good nurse?”
She runs her tongue across her plump lips. “How?”
“Because you’re worried you won’t be. People who aren’t good nurses don’t worry about making a mistake or letting people die. Only good nurses worry about those things.”
She bites her bottom lip. “I’m sitting here because I told myself that I wouldn’t leave until I decided if I would be coming back.”
“You’ve been sitting here for two hours?”
“Almost three. Val told me to take off early when she saw I was falling apart.”
I chuckle. “Well, what did you decide? Have I swayed your decision?”
I don’t know what it is, but I can feel something growing between us. The air is charged, raising the temperature in my body, and making every hair stand on end as I look into her blue eyes. “I’m not sure,” she says, barely above a whisper, not blinking.
“I think you should stay.”
“Why?”
“You didn’t give up after one shot of trying to ride a bike, did you?”
She rolls her eyes. “No.”
“You didn’t roll over and quit school the first time you got a bad grade, did you?”
She just shakes her head, the corners of her mouth lifting upward slightly.
“Then why quit your dream job after one bad moment?”
She turns her head and looks straight ahead. Her shoulders rise as she takes a breath, and fall when she lets it out.
“So, are you coming back tomorrow?”
She shakes her head, and my back straightens. I don’t know why I care so much, but she has to come back. I don’t know what this is, but I have to figure it out.
“I have class tomorrow. I’ll be back Friday.” She smiles widely now.
I shake my head, and she giggles at my look of annoyance.
“Thank you, by the way,” she says as I stand.
I bend to grab my bag from the floor. “For what?”
“For everything. For seeing me in that room and knowing I was freaking out. For snapping me out of it. For this. You don’t seem like the type to mow me over if I get in your way. I guess that rumor isn’t true.”
“Oh, it’s true. Rumors start for a reason.” I pull the strap up higher on my shoulder. “Good night, Ally.”
“Good night, Dr. Cole.”
I turn and walk toward the doors with a sense of accomplishment. I take care of patients every day. I perform risky surgeries. Yet, getting her to come back for another day is what turned my day around.
I shake my head as I walk down the sidewalk. I don’t know this woman, where she came from, or where she’s going, but somehow, she’s already gotten under my skin more in one day than anyone else has in the six years I’ve been broken.
I walk across the street to the parking garage and climb behind the wheel of my Mercedes. Traffic has slowed after rush hour, so it doesn’t take long to drive home.
I pull into the garage, head into the house, drop my gym bag on the floor, and head straight for the kitchen. I flip on the light and begin to search the fridge for something to make for dinner. I’m not all that hungry.
I’m more tired than anything. I grab a beer from the fridge and close the door.
I twist off the cap as I move about the house. I stop in the entryway and empty my pockets.
I still have a landline and a machine for messages just in case a major disaster happens that takes out cell towers. This way, the hospital can still reach me. I see the red light flashing on the machine, so I hit the play button.
“Ethan, it’s Jill.”
I groan and walk to the living room, the message still playing.
“I just wanted to touch base. You know, keep you updated. We’ve collected 1.2 million dollars, and all of that is going to the Amelia Walden-Cole fund for IVF treatments,” my mother-in-law says over the recording.
I flop onto the couch and take a long swig of beer.
“We’re helping countless families who have no other options, Ethan. I know you miss her—we all do—but some good can come of this.”
Bullshit.
“We’re approaching the six-year mark. Every year since we opened the foundation, we have a ceremony. We’d love it if you’d attend. But of course, we understand if you can’t make it. I don’t have to tell you the date, but everything starts at five. Goodbye. I hope you’re taking care of yourself,” she adds before the machine beeps twice, signaling the end of the message.
I tilt my head back and gulp my beer until there’s nothing left.
Instead of going back to the fridge for another, I open the cabinet and grab the bottle of bourbon. I uncap it, wrap my fist around the neck, and drink straight from the bottle.
It’s warm, and the liquid burns its way down my throat. It doesn’t go down as easy as the beer, but I know it will have a better effect.
Bottle still in hand, I move to the back of the kitchen and look out the back patio doors at the pool. What a waste. I should never have bought this house.
“Come on, Ethan. All families need a pool,” Amelia says, taking my hand and pulling me onto the patio. She turns to face me and wraps her arms around my neck. She smiles up at me, and everything inside of me melts.
“We live in Chicago. We don’t need a pool. We’ll only use it a few months a year.”
“We can put a heater in it and use it year-round.”
“With as much as we both work, it won’t get used. It’ll just be another expense to keep up with.”
“We need exercise, and you know how much I hate to run. You’re a heart surgeon. You should know that swimming is good for your heart.”
My head falls back and my eyes close as I groan. “I can think of a few other things that are also good for the heart.” I look at her now, smirking.
“Well, let’s go sign the paperwork for this house and then you can show me some of those things.”
I chuckle and she bats her lashes. She knows she’s getting to me. “You really want this house that badly?”
She smiles widely and nods vigorously.
“Alright. Fine!”
She giggles and jumps up and down, pulling my mouth to hers and then peppering my face with kisses.
I shake the memory from my head as I turn away from the pool I didn’t want. Here I am, ten years later, thinking about heating the damn thing after all.
I bring the bottle to my lips and turn off the lights as I head to a bedroom that’s been entirely too lonely these past six years.
Maybe I need to sell this house. Every family needs a pool, but I don’t have a family. It’s just me, and I hate it here.